The Forest of Orbis
by theonewhofights
Summary: The Sing-Off is a biannual event held at the very edge of Nightshade Forest on the planet Orbis. Bringing somebody from another planet to compete, no matter how much power of the Sound they have in their veins, is against the rules. Scott Hoying is lucky enough to be torn from Earth to compete anyway. (Scomiche. Pentatonix.)
1. The Clearing

**Hi everyone! This story requires a little bit of an explanation, so I'm going to jump right to it since these bold paragraphs are gonna be longer than usual:**

 **The pairing for this story is Scomiche (Scott Hoying/Mitch Grassi) and is a Pentatonix fanfic. Kirstie _will_ be paired with Jeremy.**

 **It is a fantasy story that takes place in Nightshade Forest (dunno if any other forest is named that. Probably. I'm sticking with it though). The planet Nightshade Forest is located on is solely called Orbis (Latin for the word _world_ ) that is in a different dimension than ours, and is 89% forest and only 11% open land and water. **

**The Sound is a power that runs through the veins of talented musicians or singers that allows them to command objects, use the elements, read minds, and other things when they sing or play their instrument. Not all people on Orbis can use the Sound, as not all of them are singers or musicians. There is one woman on all of Orbis whom is rumored to be the most powerful Sound user in all of the land.**

 **Note that Scott (he is the main character and whose 3rd person POV will be written in almost all of the chapters) speaks English, and everybody on Orbis can speak any language that might be found on our Earth (for instance, a person on Orbis might speak Spanish _and_ English, or maybe they can just speak Italian. You'll learn why this is in later chapters). **

**Everything else you, the readers, are going to have to learn as the story progresses and Scott learns more and more about Orbis. Sorry! :)**

 **Okay, that was all very long but very necessary. If y'all have any questions, feel free to leave them as a review or PM me. Also, this first chapter is short, but all of the rest of the chapters will gradually get longer.**

 **Alright everyone, that's it from me for now. Happy reading!**

* * *

All was silent in the clearing. It wasn't a particularly large one (though it was inhibited by a few rabbits, several rocks, and many fireflies), and was certainly not the largest in the forest, but it was sizable enough that two hooded figures could pace its circumference while keeping an appropriate distance between them.

Which is exactly what they were doing; walking in a slow circle, sizing each other up, their tongues quick and sharp and on the edge of speech. Both were wary of how powerful the other was. Both required something of the other.

And both would not go down without a fight, if it came to that.

Suddenly, the shorter of the pair paused. In front of it stood a flower, a small-looking thing, unnoticeable save the fact that its petals had yet to open. The cloaked figure who had stopped in its path reached out a hand and sang a quiet riff; in the next instance the flower was in full bloom and the center of the pistil glowed with a soft blue light.

The little flower-lantern was swiftly plucked from where it resided in the grass and held in the palm of a hand. It was then promptly twirled around and around thin fingers, so that the teal haze outlined the shape of the figure's bare knuckles.

"Nice. Waste your powers on a damn flower, of all things." Said a voice across the way. It was the other person in disguise, who waited only a second more before decidedly tossing her hood from her head. The woman revealed underneath was more of a girl, really, assumed to be a woman because of her unnatural height for her age (only fifteen, yet she seemed eighteen with her bust and leg length). Her hair was a cranberry red, curled to past her shoulders, and her small eyes glinted silver-grey in the moonlight.

Her opposition didn't pause in its movements. "Why do I have a feeling that I just did something you still can't do?" The flower was tossed. It landed in a bush three feet away, still pulsing with its strange colored light.

"I can do that." The girl scowled and crossed her arms in defiance. "I just need help is all."

"Yeah. From your mom."

"You-" She was very ready to fire a scorching insult, and the other being in the cloak knew this. However, she took in a deep breath and held her temper, reminding herself of the policy. If she allowed her anger to get the best of her, her mother's store would surely suffer for it. "What exactly did I make the two day journey over here for?"

"You know."

"Actually, I don't. Mom never tells me the needs of her clients." The redhead sniffed, clearly disliking this notion. The figure under the hood smiled faintly. "So, what's your fancy, stranger? You want a potion, enchantment, charmed object? None of them, all of them, it doesn't matter: anything will cost you."

Though the smirk of the other person went unseen, it did not stop them from doing it. "Your ever-so-merciful mother is giving me this favor for free."

An impressed whistle rang through the air. "Wow. You must be important." She cocked her head to the side, trying to assess this mystery. "Still, I need to know. What's your order?"

This choice took no time to debate. "I want blood."

"Then kill something. Like a rabbit."

"Hysterical." The figure opened its mouth (this also went unseen, as the hood covered its entire face) and sang one long, low note. There was a squeal to the left of the girl. She started at the noise, glancing over in shock. Laying in the grass was a rabbit, twitching violently as it's ears and back legs bent in a way they were not supposed to be bent. This went on for a couple moments more until the mammal's eyes closed and it became still.

Visibly shaken, the girl with grey eyes barely kept herself from stammering. "I didn't mean literally." It was dawning on her that this person might use their power on her...and she'd end up dead in the middle of a clearing with her legs twisted backwards over her head.

Not a pretty sight.

"Then you shouldn't have said it so testingly. You've got a lot to learn." The figure pointed at the still rabbit. "Not that kind of blood. I want new blood. I want somebody with the Sound in their veins. For the Sing Off."

She wanted badly to ask the cloaked person, so much shorter than her yet so much more powerful, why they needed somebody like that. After all, the biannual Sing Off was the most important event held in the woods.

"Can't you go find somebody yourself, all-powerful one?" The girl asked, attempting to keep some false bravo. "There are plenty of people in these parts with the Sound in them. Plenty."

A shake of a head was her answer. "I want somebody special. Different. Not from here. Not from anywhere close to here." The figure stared at her and said no more.

There was silence again.

Then realization struck the girl.

"You want _me_ to go get them?" She asked incredulously. Already, she was stepping away, her gaze darting around the trees, seeking a way out. "Sorry, Miss, but I don't do that kind of stuff. My mom used to do it ages ago, and look where it got her. Locked up in a dungeon of her own creation an running a semi-illegal business." Another thought, a darker, more secretive one, gnawed at the edge of her brain. Forcibly she pushed it to the side (for she was aware that if the figure across from her sang a few special words in one of the oldest of languages, it could read her mind). "No can do."

"I spoke with your mother before you came tonight. She agreed to the terms that I set out." A lie. But the girl wasn't to be notified of that. "You're to leave at once."

"Are you kidding me?" She threw her hands in the air. Irritated, her next words escaped with a suspicious twang. "My mom agreed to give _you,_ someone I don't even know, a free order _and_ power over me?"

Another animalistic shriek sounded in the middle of the night, now to the right of the girl. It was another rabbit, screaming its protests as its small body writhed and fell to the ground. Her eyes widened as they flicked from it to the hooded figure. The song must've been sung so softly that even _she,_ the daughter of the strongest Sound-wielder in the forest, couldn't hear it.

This made her body begin to shake in fear. This person was going to kill her if she didn't obey.

"F-Fine. I'll leave immediately." She twisted her hands together in front of her, a clear sign that she was nervous. "I'll bring a potion and a Power Seeker and everything. I'll bring you someone." And boy, was she afraid. The Sing Off was in a little less than a month. Bringing somebody foreign and not part of your tribe was against the rules and you could be disqualified for doing so. But the figure did not seem to care.

"Good. Now go. I expect nothing but the best."

The girl hesitated, peering at the being standing not twenty feet away. Her tone became ominous."You might think otherwise, but the kind of magic my mother and I use...there's always a price, Miss. So the boy or girl, man or woman I bring back, they might not fall into your arms right off the bat if you know what I mean. They will be strong, not puppets. They'll have free will. It'll take your guidance to make them go to you and do your bidding."

"Maybe you should bring a suggestion potion with you. Convince them to follow you and bring them to this clearing."

"We both know that isn't possible." She squinted once more. "Mind you, person who's powerful as shit, the person I bring can pop up anywhere. Literally anywhere. Possibly at the bottom of Lake Thetis."

"Make sure that doesn't happen."

"Of course. Oh, by the way, just one more warning; whomever I bring will have a tie to my mom. You remembered that, right? They are partially hers. As they always are. That's your price. Now, if you'll excuse me, stranger..."

She bowed, pulled her hood over her red locks, turned on her tail, and sprinted out of the clearing and into the dark trees. The figure waited a moment, just to make sure that she was gone, and then let a loose sigh escape along with the tension on its shoulders. Thank god that was over with. Being abrasive just wasn't in the hooded person's nature. For now, though, being a little rough was necessary.

It then ran over to the first fallen rabbit, stroked its ears once, and hummed a hymn. The tiny animal's eyes flickered and opened. It blinked up at the person innocently, making said person grin. The cloaked figure walked over and sung the same song to the other rabbit, whom did the same thing it's fellow hare had done; a quick, pure blinking of their eyes after being awakened. The two hopped to each other once they had tested their legs, sniffed the area, and as fast as a shooting arrow they plunged into the forest, out of sight.

They hadn't died, of course. Only put into a sleep like death. A trick of the Sound, meant to frighten the girl into doing the figure's bidding.

Sighing again, the powerful cloaked mystery gave the woods surrounding it a last sweeping glance. Satisfied and thinking of how it was to slip past the tribal guards, it raised its hands high to the moon and sang a range of words entirely in Italian.

Soon, the sound of the figure's voice warping and shuttering encased the space, followed by a faint click. It was gone, leaving not a trace that it had been there in the first place.

All was silent in the clearing. The grass rustled. The wind blew lazily. The flower, still caught in a bush, glowed blue.


	2. Intoxicated

**Hiya everyone! Chapter two is here!**

 **I've been getting a few PMs and a review that claim "WE ARE CONFUSED. PLEASE EXPLAIN THIS MONSTROSITY." I love that y'all are puzzled as heck; that's what I intended :) Orbis is a world pretty unlike our own, and it's supposed to be super confusing! I promise you guys will learn more as Scott also learns about this strange world he's been plopped onto. I can't wait to let loose a few tricks I have up my sleeve and explain more later.**

 **Just a FYI; this chapter takes place on our Earth, not on Orbis.**

 **Thank you for your reviews, favorites, and follows! Read away!**

* * *

"Somebody put something in my drink..." Scott protested, hanging onto Avi like his life depended on it. The bass supported his fellow singer on one shoulder, trying not to grumble at the weight.

"Yeah, Scott. Alcohol." He said back as calmly as he could. Where were his keys again? Actually, where was the car, again? Dammit, if he forgot where the car was he was going to crack himself over the head with a pan for being such an idiot.

The blonde pulled away from his friend's side, stumbled, and watched as the ground swirled underneath his feet. He almost fell over attempting to regain his balance, but reached to his left and found the solid metal of a car before he could do so. It was late at night, he knew that much, very late. And he had just come out of some sort of club, Scott knew that too. There shouldn't have been anything wrong, as this situation had happened several times already; him needing an escort home, that is.

Yet something was amiss.

"No." The baritone's words were slow and unsteady. "I was drinking water, I swear."

Avi dug around his pockets for his keys, all the while sending his friend a disbelieving look. What was a clear alcoholic drink that looked like it could be water's twin? "I think you were taking shots of tequila, Scott. You weren't drinking water. If you had been, you wouldn't be tripping over your own feet."

Frowning slightly, Scott shook his head. "I remember I was drinking water...I didn't wanna get a hangover because we have morning rehearsal tomorrow. I remember, Avi."

The bearded man sighed. Though the explaination was a good one, Avi couldn't honestly take the blonde's word when he was in his current state. "Listen, buddy, I know you might think that, but you're drunk and you don't know what you're saying." He finally retrieved his car keys and pressed a certain button. Somewhere to the right of the pair came a loud beep. "C'mon, lets go home."

This made the other man push at Avi when he tried to support him again. "We have to go back." Scott's voice carried a slight slur, which wasn't helping to provide proof that he wasn't drunk. But he knew he wasn't; when he was drunk, he felt bubbly and happy and his thoughts were centered around his favorite brunette. Now he was dizzy and nauseous and confused, and he was taking no joy in the experience, while he usually didn't mind the high he got from regular alcohol.

Who was that girl who messed with his water? She was a redhead, he remembered...she asked him why he'd been there all alone with no partner...something about being a bartender for a few months. That's everything Scott could recall without a dull ache blossoming in the back of his mind, coaxing him to forget about the girl and anything she might've done.

"A redhead...she fucked with my water. Avi, she did it!" The baritone grabbed the bassist's arm with shocking strength and started to heave him the way they had come. It wasn't an easy task considering that Scott could barely stand up straight and Avi was aware with a sharp mind.

The bearded man was disgruntled and was beginning to feel slightly ticked off. It was eleven at night, he was tired, and his band mate didn't want to cooperate. A bad mixture. "Scott, stop. You need to go home. Get rest and let your system filter whatever shit you drank."

The statement had blonde scowling at his friend. "I was drinking water. Oh, my head. My head hurts." He clutched at his temples, which were starting to throb.

"Whoever this redhead is, I'll find out about her tomorrow." Avi grabbed the taller man's hand and yanked him with finality towards his car. It was a difficult, toiling process, but they eventually got there and climbed in.

The ride to the apartment Scott shared with Mitch was a fruitless one; Scott wouldn't let the matter go and continued to try and convince Avi that he wasn't wasted and that some girl had altered his water. The bass wouldn't listen, countering and arguing with his friend for a solid twenty minutes about it. Their bickering lasted until the bearded man pulled up to the apartment and said pointedly, "Do you need help getting up the stairs? Otherwise I'd really like to go home."

"I think I can get up there." Scott held onto his head. It ached horribly. Wincing, he started to exit the vehicle, but Avi stopped him.

"Take it easy the rest of tonight, okay?" His deep voice rumbled. Despite his annoyance at having to pick up the other singer in the middle of the night (Kirstin and Kevin had been too tired. Mitch had been asleep before Avi had called him and woken him up to ask if he could do it. His response? A sigh, and, "Can you please do it? For the queen?"), he truly cared for Scott and did not want him to accidentally hurt himself. "Make sure that Mitch watches you. Constantly. Okay?"

A nod was the confirmation. Avi nodded back and drove off.

Scott took in several deep breaths, steering his muddled painful thoughts, walking slowly towards the entrance to the apartment and sluggishly pushing the door open.

Usually making his way up the stairs would probably take a grand total of thirty to forty seconds. In the current state he was in, it was three minutes before he finally stood in front of the door that would lead him to his bed. He raised a fist and rapped on the wood a few times. Scott held his body up by leaning on the wall, not trusting himself to hold his own weight.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" A high-pitched voice announced on the other side of the door. Its handle jiggled and it opened. Mitch Grassi stood in the illuminated space dressed in an oversized shirt (that was most likely Scott's) that went to just above his knees and his undergarments. Brown eyes shining with both irritation and lack of rest, he began to snap, "It's the middle of the damn night, what the hell do you-" Then he noticed his best friend standing there with a sickened expression. "Oh my god, Scott. Avi dropped you off?"

"Nope." The blonde said in a strained voice. He stumbled into the apartment. The door clicked closed behind him. "I got picked up in a limo that had three blonde male hookers in the back that told me if I offered them each a twenty they'd give me a lap dance."

"Did you give them the money?" He wasn't shocked that Scott could uphold his joking manner even while intoxicated.

"Also nope." He shook his head. Trying not to trip over his own feet, he walked as steadily as he could to the couch, plopping on it to rest his legs. "I told them I was into brunettes." Using his fingers to rub his temples, he smiled faintly at Mitch, who was standing in front of him with a hip cocked. "You look good in my shirt."

The countertenor rolled his eyes. "Thanks, babe. I didn't think you'd be back so early and I didn't want to answer the door in my underwear."

"I wouldn't have minded." Was the flirty reply.

Okay, that statement just blatantly confirmed Scott was hammered. No way would he ever hit on Mitch so openly if he wasn't. "You really are drunk, aren't you." It wasn't meant to be a question.

"I'm not drunk!" The baritone protested loudly. A wave of dizziness hit him, forcing the room to tilt, sway, and turn upside-down. "Ugh...why are there three of you, Mitchie?"

His other half was acting way out of sorts, and it was honestly worrying the smaller man. Carefully, he sat beside Scott, grabbing his jaw and dragging his face so that their gazes could meet. The action, though it propelled the two so close that they were nose-to-nose (Scott didn't mind that in the slightest), made a spark of pain jolt across Scott's brain.

"My head hurts so bad." He whimpered, closing his eyes to try and stop the vicious pounding. Mitch's features softened. He scooted closer so their legs pressed together and took his best friend's face in his hands.

"Louise, girl, look at me."

Scott refused, squeezing his eyes tighter. Oh...oh, god it burned. Everything motherfucking _burned._

"Maybe you need some ice." A high tone said with an equally high level of concern. A cool hand touched the blonde's forehead. "You're hot, babe. Like, on fire."

"Really? I didn't know you valued my physical aesthetic that much."

"You need to shut up before I murder you." Mitch threatened. He got up from the couch, lifting an eyebrow when the blonde finally opened his eyes and met his gaze. The tinker of the two pointed to where he had previously been sitting. "Lay down. I'll get some ice from the freezer."

"Noooo..." Scott whined. He reached out to hold his friends wrist. "Don't leave."

"I'm not going to leave, babe. You need ice." The brunette said. He waited until his counterpart let go of him before traipsing to the kitchen. A pink, almost unnoticeable blush resided on his olive cheeks.

Wyatt meowed somewhere, loudly enough that the tall singer could hear him. Scott nearly got up from his position to let his kitty, realized that Mitch would probably kill him if he did so, and instead called, "Wyatt! C'mere, baby!"

As quick as a dart, the sphynx cat shot from the bathroom, scrabbled down the hall, and tripped over his clumsy paws until he got close enough to the couch to leap onto his owner. The baritone sneezed in response to his allergies, making his head give a throb. Wyatt meowed again, butting his head against Scott's arm and purring.

"Your Daddy's sick." Scott told the kitten. His pale green eyes locked on his owner. "A red headed girl put something in his water and now he doesn't feel well. But your Mommy is gonna take care of me, because she's fucking amazing." He sighed. "Hopefully, when I go back to that bar tomorrow, I can track down that girl and bust her."

The cat blinked, seemingly understanding despite knowing not a word of English.

Mitch came back into the living room then. He carried an ice pack in one hand. "Seriously? You're letting Wyatt walk all over you while you're sick? Are you shitting insane? Wyatt, come here, queen." He only had to snap his fingers once and gesture for the kitty to get the message; Wyatt hopped off of Scott and sullenly walked out.

"Hey! I was confiding in him. What gi-" The blonde waited while his nose prickled. In the next second he sneezed powerfully, his head protesting the action. "Ow..."

The tinier man walked to the couch, lifted his friends head, and sat down. Scott's head ended up in Mitch's lap, tilted so that he could see the television, with the ice pack pressed to his forehead firmly. He hadn't noticed, but SpongeBob was playing. He watched it and tried not to squint.

Fingers started to sift through Scott's hair; the gesture made him tingle at the slightly painful pleasure. Goosebumps prickled along his skin. He shivered, curling into himself and snuggling closer.

"Are you cold?"

"No." Scott shut his eyes. So this is what it was like to be content. Also turned on, half-incoherent, sluggish, and maybe-not-really-drunk. But content as well. He felt a sudden overwhelming appreciation for his best friend, sitting here and caring for him. "How are you so incredible? You're incredible."

The countertenor giggled. "You're only saying that because you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk!" The baritone protested yet again. How many times tonight was he going to have to-

Uh oh.

Scott snapped out of his semiconscious state and leapt away from Mitch. Covering his hand with his mouth, he ran as well as he could without tripping to the bathroom, keeled over, and was violently sick.

The liquid rising in his stomach had a burn that was worse than acid. His esophagus was morphing into a volcano that spewed lava, uncontrollably and constantly. Oh, god, this was painful. Was throwing up supposed to hurt this much?

"Scott!" Soft footsteps sounded behind the ill singer. Scott retched again, not able to help it.

"Shit..." He gulped air. "What the hell did I throw up?"

Mitch stood behind him, plugging his nose and grimacing. He peeked over his best friend's shoulder at the vomit. "Probably some nasty dark brown stuff, eww-" His high tone froze. He gasped, swiveled his gaze to the blonde, and looked at the liquid foaming in the toilet. "Scott. What did you drink tonight?"

"Just water, I swear-" Then he too froze, for he now noticed what his other half was so shocked about.

The mixture sitting in the toilet was purple. Not purple as in a tinge of violet overshadowed by the yellow of acid (eww), but a bright almost-magenta that was swirling fiercely. As the two watched, a neon light began to shine through the liquid faintly, enough to illuminate the features of the people examining it. The purple churned for a moment more, bubbled like it was alive, and was silent.

"Flush it." The countertenor whispered shakily.

"That was in my stomach?" Scott whispered back, horrified. No wonder he felt like crap.

"Scotty, that needs to go down the drain-" Gurgling, the liquid started to move again, and again the light started to shine through. Now the bathroom was filled with the sweet sound of low singing; a choir, humming a hymn.

Both men were frightened out of their minds, clutching each other tightly despite the soothing sound of the music. The light got brighter and the singing got louder, joined by the scent of trees and wood, the scent wafting around the room and creeping throughout the rest of the apartment. It was the strangest thing either singer had ever heard or seen.

The toilet started to vibrate as the singing grew ever louder. Scott finally snapped out of his surprise, lunged forward, and pressed the lever that brought all of it, the singing, the smell of forest, the purple substance, down down down into the sewers of L.A.

"Ohmygod." Mitch crept to the toilet. "That was the freakiest shit I've ever seen. What the hell was that, Scott?" Another question seeped into his mind. "Was that inside your body?"

The baritone drew an unsteady breath. "I-I-I think so. I have no idea what that was." He ran a hand through his hair. His brain leapt and thought quickly. Suddenly something hit him. "That girl! That redhead girl! She'd know what that was!"

"What?" A glance of confusion was sent his way.

"I've been telling you and Avi that I'm not drunk because all I had tonight was water. Avi thought I was drinking tequila. But I wasn't." He explained horridly as Mitch continued to stare at him. "There was thus redheaded girl who was bar tending tonight..." His mind fogged a little. "Um...she didn't say her name...but she was the one who served me drinks. She must've put some weird crap in my water."

For a second Scott was under the impression that his best friend would believe him. How could one not, even after witnessing such a paranormal event?

"O...kay." Mitch said slowly. He closed the lid of the toilet and turned to the taller man. "Something really weird just happened. It happened because you threw up. You're telling me you what to blame this on some random bar tender girl?"

"Umm..." Scott wasn't drawing any confidence from the patronizing glint in the dark brown eyes aging at him.

Those same eyes softened. "Sorry. I'm kinda freaked out." The smaller singer sighed. "Okay. We're okay. So." He continued after taking a deep breath. "Let's go back in the living room and watch SpongeBob and deal with this in the morning. Okay? This is too damn much to handle this late at night."

Thinking it over, it wasn't such a bad idea. The blue-eyed man's mind was already muddled and in some sort of shock. "That sounds good. I'm closing the bathroom door though."

"Deal." Mitch smiled softly. "C'mon, let's lay down. Hopefully that weird shit doesn't bubble back up and strangle us in our sleep." He quickly amended his sarcastic comment when Scott's face visibly paled. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean anything. That strange-ass liquid _will not_ bubble back up and strangle us in our sleep."

They were right; after the bathroom door was closed, Scott informed Mitch that he didn't feel sick anymore, and the TV flipped back on with the two in the same position as they were in before, no liquid colored purple that glowed neon and sang strangled them as they slipped into sleep.

No, that didn't happen. Scott, snuggling against the brunette's side, embraced the dreamlessness that awaited him believing (even if it had happened only a few minutes ago) that the entire ordeal was just drunken imagination.

He was wrong.

* * *

The pair had woken up tangled in each other's arms. Blushing profusely, they had separated, gone through their morning routines, and warily checked the toilet in the guest bathroom. Nope. No purple stuff.

Scott had suggested telling Kirstie, Avi, and Kevin about the incident, but the countertenor persuaded him otherwise; that bass already thought his taller friend was drunk out of his mind. The rest of their friends would most likely think them insane. The baritone paused to bite his lip as he mulled over that (not noticing when Mitch stared at the automatic gesture), and nodded in agreement as he ate more pancakes.

Thus, the day had gone by fairly normally. Right after breakfast, rehearsal had commenced; the best friends (as per usual) were pretty much joined at the hip all day and were unwilling to give up their positions. During lunch, the brunette had sat next to his counterpart (as usual) and rested a hand on his thigh (as _not very_ usual), occasionally whispering something in the blonde's ear (a mixture of usual and _not very_ usual).

At least Scott had managed to break away from the group for a short time to continue to write the song he was working on. It was when he was walking back to finish up rehearsal (his brain whizzing with possible song titles...maybe he'd call it _Glow in the Hall_...or perhaps _Light in the Hallway._ Yup. That had a better ring to it) he'd been yanked aside by Kirstin to talk with her about a certain someone.

She insisted that he do something about the obvious attraction between the two, but the baritone turned her down. He'd do it later, he protested firmly, when he was ready. Hell, Mitch might even ask him out first. He was queen, after all.

They bickered back and forth the entire rest of the afternoon, unaware that the rest of their friend group was watching them with curious eyes.

Rehearsal ended (rather successfully at that; it had been a good day, full of singing, teasing Avi, making fun of Kevin's irritability, and trying to keep his mind from wandering to Mitch for too long), and Scott went back to the apartment with his best friend. When they got there, the blonde checked the guest bathroom one last time and procured nothing. Maybe the previous night really had been a drunken illusion (he ignored the fact that his pounding headache had vanished after he'd gotten ill).

The two best friends had then decided to have a musical movie marathon night. They gathered their favorite musicals, snatched blankets, and situated themselves in front of the TV with a giant bowl of popcorn between them. In the beginning of the showings, they had sat close enough so that their knees touched and their arms were pressed together; however, after singing along to _Wicked, Rent,_ and _Chicago,_ Scott had ended up laying on the ground with Mitch casually sprawled on top of him, both wrapped up in their chosen blankets.

The solid, tiny frame on top of him felt nice. Mitchie was toasty warm.

Like he could read Scott's mind, the brunette cuddled even closer, if that was possible. He rested his head of dark locks on his counterpart's chest, nearly close enough to his heart to hear it fluttering rapidly. It would've been very easy to kiss the top of his head. Very, very easy.

Somehow the blonde refrained.

It seemed that the night would continue on as blissfully normal. _Chicago_ finished, and the pair were just about to pop in _Grease_ when the smaller of the two claimed he needed to use the facilities. While he was busy in the bathroom, the baritone (already missing Mitch's comfy heat...god, he was pathetic) chewed his tongue as an idea began to blossom in the front of his mind.

He chose to present it to Mitch when he came back; once they got into their previous position, right as he was about to hit _Play_ , the singer thought better of it and set the remote aside.

"I'm going to that bar tonight to find that girl. I want to know what she put in my drink." Scott said. Dark brown eyes widened, before the person whom owned the assets gathered control of himself and set his chin against his best friend's chest, thinking.

"Babe, last night was just..." His high voice faltered, searching for words. "Well, last night was weird. The singing didn't sound dangerous, and neither did the purple liquid when it was doing some major bubbling shit-"

"Right, meaning its safe for me to-"

"You were sick even before you threw up, Scott. That stuff, whatever the hell it was, made you so damn sick that you started hitting on me."

The taller man was slightly hurt that his other half thought he needed to be wasted in order to flirt with him. It must've shown on his face, too, because Mitch continued. "Not that you need to be drunk to hit on me-" He threw in a wink and a small smile, calming any doubts flooding Scott's brain. "-but still. You worried me. You _still_ worry, me you crazy maniac. I just don't want you to come home feeling as bad as you did yesterday."

"I won't. I know I won't because I won't drink a single thing." Mitch raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I promise. Even if three male hookers give me a free lap dance and offer a drink afterward."

The blonde couldn't stop the thought that flitted into his brain. _If_ you _gave me a lap dance, I'd pretty much do whatever the hell you wanted, Mitch._

Then he felt like frowning and blushing at the same time. _STOP THINKING NAUGHTY THOUGHTS! THIS IS MITCH AND NOT SOME RANDOM SOMEBODY!_

"Okay." Was the soft-spoken reply. "But I swear, if you break your sober promise, you will experience the full wrath of Queen Mitch."

That caused a giggle to escape. "I should get going now, then. The bar closes at midnight and its eleven right now." Scott gently moved his crush off of him, unwrapped his legs from their blanket prison, and stood up to stretch. His back popped. "Do I look okay to go out?" He was dressed in a plain grey T-shirt, blue jeans, sneakers, and a simple black jacket. A bracelet that Mitch and Kirstie had gifted to him hung on his left wrist, with silver charms on it; the letters _M_ , _K_ , and _S_ , a tiny heart, and a shimmering microphone. He adored the accessory and rarely took it off.

The countertenor waved a hand dismissively. "Babe, you look fabulous. Always. Now, shoo, peasant, and hurry back before I watch the rest of the movies without you."

Scott had reached the door and pulled out his keys. Unlocking and unlatching it, he opened the door and, by a strange impulse, looked behind him one last time at Mitch.

He was cute. Definitely cute. He was curled up by himself in the middle of the carpet, watching the baritone with a teasing glint in his gaze. His hair was ruffled, sticking up slightly on one side, and he seemed to be coming out of a content sleep. Maybe it was the slightly pleased glaze covering his orbs.

Mitch winked at his counterpart and blew him a kiss. "Love you, Scotty! Come back to me sober, 'kay?"

He was feeling a mixture of happiness, slight confusion, and hesitation. Nevertheless, Scott grinned, made a kissy face, and closed the door to the apartment.

* * *

It took a while. In fact, it took so long that the blonde thought the bar might close before he found her.

Fate was in his favor, however, and eventually he found the menace. And what was she doing? Bar tending, no less.

Scott slid onto a bar stool after he managed to slip past the wave of people blocking his path. He was shocked that there was even a seat available; since it was nearly time to call it a night, patrons were crowding the bar in order to get their last taste of alcohol. Thankfully he wasn't one of them.

He didn't know what it was that made him stand out. Actually, he was probably the least noticeable person waiting at the bar for service (he intended to keep his promise and not drink a single drop. Last night had been enough of a convincer). Compared to the woman with thirty face piercings, the young man whom was making out with his girlfriend, and the older business-like adult who had a tattoo of a dragon curled around his ear, Scott was the plainest person.

Despite that, she noticed him.

Her hair was cranberry red, and seemed to be naturally so. At least the tall singer recalled that much correctly. What he _hadn't_ remembered was just how young she looked, or how quiet (but sure) her voice was when she spoke. Her opening sentence was, "I have a feeling that you came to see me, not to get a drink. Am I right?"

She leaned forward on the counter so that her cleavage was much exposed (her uniform was a low-cut top and jeans). Her eyes, he also noted, were an extremely steely grey. Scott didn't bat an eyelid at her antics and returned with a cool, "You're right."

Smile catlike, she straightened and gestured for him to get up and follow her. He figured that he might as well; it might be better for her to inform him of what she gave him last night in private, anyway. If anybody heard them talking they'd assume the two were bonkers.

The redhead led him to the back room, twining gracefully past the office of the manager and next to the crates of liquor that stocked the back halls. Scott guessed she'd lead as far back as she could until they could go back no longer. His hypothesis was incorrect, though, and her slim body lead him to outside. Specifically the private staff parking lot, where nobody would be for at least forty minutes.

Wind billowed about the two. The girl gave him an up-and-down look. Assessing him with those eyes.

"I'll make you a deal." She said. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small bottle full of liquid. It could all be downed in a single swallow. "You drink this, and I tell you everything you want to know about that purple glowing stuff. Yeah?"

"How did you-" Scott's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I just do." She said impatiently. "Drink it, or I tell you nothing."

Obviously, drinking the liquid she was offering wasn't smart. Duh. Any sane person could recognize that. But the blonde was desperate for answers, and what had happened the night before had truly shaken him. The purple singing neon shit had come from his body! That was weird!

Against his better judgment, he slowly accepted the bottle, uncorked it (yup. It had a cork. Super old fashioned), and brought the container to his lips. A nutty, herbal taste filled his mouth, coaxing him to completely drain the stuff. He licked his lips afterwards while he handed the bottle back. It was shockingly good.

"Now talk. What was that purple stuff?" Scott demanded, squinting at the redhead. He was already regretting walking here with her.

Suddenly, her expression morphed from cocky and confident to more than a little upset. Sighing, she stuffed the bottle back into her pocket and faced the baritone. "That was me fucking up. I accidentally forgot to add an ingredient to the mixture. That's why you got so ill. Naturally, I knew that you'd puke, and I knew you'd seek me out with questions." Her shoulders shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, but you just walked straight into my trap."

"Trap?" The blonde made a move to grab for the door he knew was right behind him. It would lead to the bar. He could get the hell out of here.

His mind instantly started to pool with a calm feeling. Not ready for the abrupt change in emotion, Scott swayed on his feet, now being soothed into a bath of blank forgetfulness.

The girl caught him when he lost his balance and fell into her. Grunting, she said, "Yeah, sorry about this. But somebody on Orbis wants to use the power of Sound that you've got in your veins. Sucks for you, but you have a lot of it. And it's my job to yank you from here and plop you back home. Hopefully not in the middle of a lake."

Her words swam inside of the baritone's head, echoing like she was at the end of a long tunnel. The sentences, the letters, they didn't make sense strung together.

God, it would feel good to sleep. It would feel really good to sleep right now. Scott leaned heavily on the girl, not caring that she was probably some psychotic murderer and he might die of poisoning.

Just his luck.

He heard her dig around her pockets again, throw something, and sing a quiet song. The sound of music and the smell of a forest filled Scott's ears, as well as the tug on his body telling him something wanted to drag him forward.

Blue eyes, blurry and bleary, caught sight of a pretty swirling thing that looked like it could be a sci-if portal. He went limp as blackness greeted him, right as the girl (clutching his body tightly) took a deep breath and leapt into the beautiful light.


	3. Awoken

**Ack! I'm so sorry, my readers! I haven't updated this story in FOREVER and that's super awful. That was all due to me updating my other story, and there was a part in this chapter where I was just stuck. Writing beginnings are always difficult. BUT ANYWAY, here's your next chapter (that takes place on Orbis), and the next update will come very soon!**

 **Oh, and just saying, if you all really love Scomiche (who doesn't?), I've gotten myself hooked on this writer on (or .net I forgot) and their name is palebluedream. Absolutely beautiful work. Seriously, their stories make me want to scream, cry (a lot), and grin in happiness. Their style is so amazing that I want to sob. Please read their work! :)**

 **That's all from me for now. Thank you for your reviews and follows! Happy reading!**

* * *

A rush of air swirled around his body, both cool and warm, but above all things _inviting._ It filled his lungs with the pleasing scent of grass mixed with redwood. Scott's eyes remained closed as he sighed, slowly breaking away from the dark blackness of sleep. He didn't want to move. He'd just keep on laying down on his spot on the floor, feeling the freshness of the environment, enjoying life.

Why had he never come to this place before? It made him feel cleansed and new and sedated, not to mention having such an effect on him that his nerves tingled in anticipation. Yeah, he'd come back here and bring Mitch with him, plus some sunscreen, a bottle of wine, maybe a few sandwiches to snack on if they stayed until the sun went down-

Wait a damn minute.

Scott's blue orbs snapped to attention. The sudden brightness of the sky above made him regret the action and wince, lifting up a hand to shield his face. Blinking, he quietly groaned in dismay, and sat up.

"Ugh..." He rubbed his cheeks, once, twice. He needed to wake up, not to mention gather his bearings. Where the hell had that redhead taken him? Knowing the excelling good fortune that always seemed to follow him, he was most likely sitting in her backyard chained to her fence waiting to be poisoned to death or some shit like that. If it was going to happen to anybody, it would happen to him.

But no; after he'd pulled his head from his hands to examine his pale wrists, he found no metal. The blonde checked his ankles as well. Nothing.

Picking himself up (also fighting the wave of dizziness that hit him when he did so. _Whoa, there, Hoying, slow down_ ), he straightened to his full height, blinked rapidly to clear his blurry vision, and took a good proper look around.

Trees. Tress were everywhere. Literally; to the left, trees. To the right, trees. Behind him, trees. In front of him...well, there was actually a small brook bubbling merrily. But it was _completely surrounded_ by, you guessed it, _trees._ This was some sort of forest. A forest of dark wood and equally dark green. Hints of jade lurked hidden in leaves, glinting prettily.

Scott glanced upward at the cheery sky, seeking the sun. Wasn't that what you were instructed to do if you were lost? He soon found you really couldn't see the sun while standing underneath all of the trees, as their branches and leaves got in the way.

The baritone's breathing was becoming heavy. Okay, okay, so he couldn't tell what time it was and he also didn't know where he was. Actually, he did sort of know. He was in the middle of a forest, possibly miles away from civilization, with no idea of what to do.

So the good news was Scott wasn't chained to a fence waiting to be force-fed poison.

Bad news was he still had no idea what to do, despite the good news.

Should he stand here and wait for somebody to come help? He threw the notion in his mental garbage the second it apperated. Yeah, right. That could take forever. Perhaps he should start to walk around a little; there might be a camp of some sort nearby with people that could help him. Hell. He could be in the middle of Nebraska. Or Idaho. Nobody would look for him in Idaho.

Calming his racing thoughts took a second. Scott sucked in more of the clean air to help clear his head. Right, he would have to go with option number 2, picking a direction and walking in it until he either ran into something or died of starvation.

Happy fun time.

He'd taken all of two steps when he realized, _DUH!_ The singer might have his phone still on him! Scott eagerly dug around the pockets of his jacket and jeans, but lifted his palms to see them empty-handed. Oh, now he remembered; he'd left the device on the floor back at the apartment. He didn't think that he would require it because he was under the impression he would go to the bar and then go straight home.

Just thinking of home made Scott sick. He realized that he quite strongly wished for Mitch to be there with him, shooting a sassy remark or complaining that dirt was getting in his shoes or casually flirting with him. He missed Avi, Kirstie, and Kevin, too. They'd get out of this weird forest together and not alone. Five heads were better than one.

 _Stop pining and get moving, Hoying._ The baritone dismissed any ponderings of his friends that were still haunting his head. He needed to get back to them, yet more importantly, he had to exit this forest. With a sense of wary resolution, he chose a random direction and began his journey.

* * *

Grass did not usually carry an undercurrent that faintly glowed. Leaves that clung to the sturdy branches of trees didn't whistle a different tune each time the wind blew past them. Insects hadn't swarmed around Scott to attack him, but to playfully buzz by his ears, and he could swear that they giggled whenever he swatted them away.

He blamed all of these things on exhaustion and weariness. What kind of grass _glows?_

Does grass in Idaho glow?

Scott had been walking for he didn't even know how long (probably a couple of hours; for he not only lacked a phone, he also lacked a watch) and had come to three solid conclusions: one, that the forest never ended. Two, that the light of day never seemed to run out. Three, that he was tired as shit and would very much like to pass out on said grass that glowed. It looked soft. And comfortable.

The only mildly exciting thing that had happened to him was his run-in with a rabbit. It had sniffed at him, edged closer, before changing its mind and sprinting off. He'd been half-inclined to ask it where he could find civilization. That was how tired he was.

This was some major _Alice In Wonderland_ mojo. Maybe the blonde would stumble upon a bottle that said _Drink Me._ And he would drink it. Because he was hungry. And thirsty. He could probably eat those neon orange mushrooms growing a few feet away...probably.

Scott continued on his way ahead, puffing at the effort it took to keep going, praying that this was all just some terrible nightmare and he would wake up any second to the smiling face of Mitch, who would be chiding him for staying in bed so late.

His brooding mood was shattered the instant the sound of a twig snapping reached his ears. Scott immediately stopped moving, his gaze sweeping the trees with serious intent. God, he couldn't handle fighting a bear or something like that.

Silence hung in the air. The baritone waited. Nothing happened for several moments.

Another twig audibly broke. Scott's head swiveled to the place that the noise had emitted from, a few paces to his left. _Fight or flight?_ His brain offered. He was debating the former when all of a sudden a voice that was not his own spoke.

"Are you lost?"

The body of the tall man started in surprise. He held a hand to his heart to steady himself, slightly ashamed for being so skittish. He looked around and saw no one. Tentatively, he answered, "I think that I am. Or I'm in the middle of Idaho."

No tone offered anything in return. Scott thought that the voice sounded very familiar. "Who's there?"

A pause. Then: "I might as well come out. You heard me break the twigs already, which is proof enough of my awful tracking skills." The voice said begrudgingly. It was a deep voice, as deep as a bass. Come to think of it, that voice sounded a lot like...

A man stood up from his place five feet away (crappy tracking skills? Sure) and brushed the dirt from his arms. He stepped forward so he and Scott were a mere foot from each other. He had a light brown beard that was well-groomed, the hair on his head tied into a bun so it wouldn't get in his line of sight, and a set but kind facial expression.

Scott's mind kicked into overdrive, unwilling to comprehend the sight before him. His striking blue eyes widened and he nearly gasped.

"Avi?" He questioned, not ready to believe.

This man, who could have been nobody other than Avriel Kaplan, raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Whoa, you're a brave one. I haven't been called by my real name by somebody I just met in...well, actually, that's never happened." His hazel-greenish pupils narrowed. "Are you some sort of Masitre that I haven't heard of?"

"What?" Scott's face turned confused. More confused than he was at the moment, anyway. On top of acting like he didn't recognize his fellow band mate, Avi was dressed in clothes the baritone had never seen his wear before, an ensemble of pure black; thin, short black scarf around his neck, black gloves, boots with silver stitching up their sides, wrinkled pants locked in place with a metal belt, a quarter-sleeve black jacket whose back dipped down to stop just above the bassist's knees, and a solid, plain shirt underneath.

Avi looked the tall blonde up-and-down. "I haven't seen you around this part of the forest before."

Scott had literally no idea what to say. Not only did his fellow band mate not seem to know him, but he was dressed differently, and also seemed to be acquainted with this weird, glowing mass of trees. He decided that this was all insane, that this was some crazy-ass nightmare, but what are you supposed to do when you're presented with an insane crazy-ass nightmare?

Fake it till you make it.

"Yeah." The baritone blinked. "I, er. I'm new to the forest, I guess." He looked around. "And I'm not really sure where I am. Could you show me to some civilization that isn't cannibalistic?"

Avi stared at him for a moment, before letting a chuckle escape him. "Did you piss off somebody who has an affinity with memory charms? You look like you could be from Masitre Hall's tribe with the way that you're dressed, and they're pretty well known for messing with people's memories. He does like to let Lindsey go a little wild every now and then."

Scott couldn't help the question that burst forth. "What's a Maistre? Are you one or something like that?"

The bass's humored expression immediately melted into one of honest worry. "Whoa. You really must've made somebody mad. What's your name, kid?"

Shifting uneasily on his feet, it occurred to the person unfamiliar with the forest that he should lie. But despite Avi acting like a stranger, Scott had always been a sucker for the openness of his face, and replied, "Scott Hoying."

"What's your rank?"

It was asked as simply as one would ask somebody their age or when their birthday was. However, to the seemingly straightforward inquiry, he didn't have an answer. "I don't know what that means." He said truthfully. Avi's eyes turned from curiosity into concern.

"You can't remember your rank?" The bearded man questioned, bewildered. He received a helpless nod in response.

Avi blinked at Scott, whom blinked right back. Staleness hung in the air. It took the bassist a moment to sort out the situation in his head before he began to speak.

"I know that this is going to sound weird." He edged closer to the blonde, seemingly wary, but also unafraid. Then again, there was nothing to be afraid _of_. Maybe a sudden burst of hysterical laughter. Yeah, that sounded likely. Oh, and he was saying the word _weird?_ This entire goddamn insane crazy-ass nightmare was weird. "But I need you to try something for me. Think back. Way back. Closing your eyes helps, too." He added that last part when Scott's eyebrows scrunched almost painfully.

The tall man closed his eyes, and though this Avi was not the Avi that he knew, did as he was requested. He thought back, way back, way back to the time he had sung his first song in front of an audience. He'd had nowhere near the skill he had now, but the people had been nice enough to clap for the obviously nervous beginning singer. He could still recall the hesitant smiles he had received, and the look on his mother's face as she grinned in congratulations.

White fog muddled the memory, seeping into the sides of it until he could only remember half of his mother's smile. Only half. His blue eyes flew open.

"Was there anything in your memories that covered them up? Diluted them?" Avi had seen the change in expression of the newcomer.

Scott nodded. His features morphed into the purest confusion on the planet. "I don't know what happened to me. I don't know where I am or..." Flashes of red hair danced behind his eyes. "Or who messed with me, if I was messed with at all. Please." The baritone gave a worse than clueless look to the bass he'd known for years yet didn't know him. "Can you...can you help me?"

Avi, the kindred soul that he was, stepped forward to grab Scott's arm. With a seriousness in his voice, he stared directly into bright blue eyes and offered his oath. "I don't know you, Scott, and I don't know how you know my name. But I do know this; you're confused. You might've made somebody who knows what they're doing mad." His grip tightened as sincerity flooded his deep tone. "I'll help you. I promise."

Relief bloomed in the blonde's chest. He smiled a small smile. "Thank you, Avi."

"Don't be so grateful just yet." Green orbs grew slightly cautious. "If I'm to help you, you have to come with me." He released Scott, leaving the choice up to him.

And what choice did he have, really?

"I'll go with you. I have nowhere else." Scott became uneasy. "Where are we going, anyway?"

A tinge of slyness graced the grin that spread across Avi's face. "Home, of course."

* * *

"How much further?" Scott couldn't help but complain. The two had been walking for equally as long as the tall man had trekked solo. His spirits had only lifted a slight bit.

The bass treading in front of him rolled his eyes. "Only a short while. Mother of Sound, but you whine a lot."

"What's the Sound? You keep on saying that." Brushing away more giggling bugs, the blue-eyed man walked a little faster to keep up (and tried not to trip over any tree roots; Avi acted like he'd been living in this forest all of his life and rarely made a misstep).

In response, the bearded man shook his head. He lifted a stray hanging branch, waited for Scott to duck under it first, and then followed deftly. "You continue to shock me, Scott. I didn't know that your memory had been altered so fully." He paused. "But as much as I want to, I shouldn't tell you anything yet. Doing so might trigger something inside of your head, placed by the charm or enchantment."

"What happens if some charm or enchantment triggers?"

"Oh, nothing bad." Avi patted a luminous green mushroom thrice the size of his hand fondly. "Your eyes will explode and blood will gush from the two holes in your head. Then you might experience the pleasant sensation of been drowned in boiling oil. You'll convulse in excruciating pain for a few minutes until your brain can't take the pressure any longer and blows up."

"Oh." Came the faint reply. "That's...um...intense."

It only took one glance at the blonde's paling face for the bassist to chuckle. "I'm kidding. I think." This did not help to calm Scott's overthinking thoughts. "I've never seen such a thing happen before, but that doesn't mean it isn't possible."

Alright, if the previous statement hadn't been comforting, then the following one basically signed his death contract.

Today continued to get better and better.

After a few more minutes of walking, Avi stopped Scott by placing a hand on his shoulder and facing him.

"You should know that the people of my leader's tribe are..." He sought for the right word as the baritone gnawed his lip out of nervousness. "Interesting. And powerful. Some not as much as others, but still. They will treat you like an outsider, and glance at you strangely, until my leader announces that you're in his care. What I'm saying is, don't be shocked if people start cussing at you for no apparent reason. We've been trained to be suspicious of everyone."

"Do I want to be in your leader's care?" The tall man asked.

"He's one of the only people on Orbis who I think might be able to help you." Avi said.

Somehow, Scott doubted that.

Before he could ask what Orbis was or if he was allowed to fire insults in retaliation or if he was supposed to kiss the feet of the leader so that he wouldn't be decapitated, the bass took hold of his arm and guiding him past several more thick trees until they came across a wood fence. It seemed to appear out of thin air. Avi didn't pay this nay mind, instead stepping towards it and humming softly. The gates opened as if commanded by his will.

Scott didn't know what he had been expecting, but it was certainly not this; a large clearing that looked like it housed a tiny village. There were stalls set up next to tree trunks, draped with cloth or beads or food, and if he glanced up he could see literal tree houses. Legit. The giant trees of the forest had been used to make houses that actually looked quite nice and neat from the outside. Ladders of rope and wood hung from either the front doors or (more commonly, it seemed) the front 'deck' or 'porch', so they could be climbed or retracted, whichever the person residing there wished. People bustled about the place, maybe forty to fifty, although there were no children. All here were teenagers or adults at the very oldest. No elders, either.

As they walked, Scott's greedy gaze drank in more. What a fascinating place! All of the buildings seemed to be in the branches of trees, at least the makeshift houses were. There was a small thing that resembled a stone hut off to the side, with a giant window cut into the side. Even from this distance, the blonde could feel the heat that radiated from the place, and hear the clanking of metal on metal.

"That's the Forgery." Avi said lowly, noticing the newcomer looking and pointing to the stone hut. "I spend my sols working there."

Another building caught his attention; it was a tall thing, so tall that it in itself could've been a tree, sculpted of dark wooden beams. The general atmosphere around the place appeared hushed, and this did not seem surprising as the door that led in and out was still. A circle of green had been mounted above the door, and it had something written on it, but it was in a language that Scott couldn't understand.

In the middle of the place sat a campfire. The logs were slightly burned, most likely from the previous night, and the stones containing the sizable monument grey as mountain dust. No seats surrounded it, so Scott assumed that everybody sat on the grass during meetings. Or whatever was held at the campfire.

Just as the blue-eyed man was turning his head to comment to Avi on how everything looked (impressive, neat, and mystically grand despite obvious attempts at modesty), whispers erupted around the pair. While they walked, getting closer to a destination that Scott was unaware of, people stopped what they were doing to stare. Scott stared as well. All of the people seemed to be adorned in some form of simple black, maybe with the occasional metal touch. Some had markings that resembled tattoos. Some had bare skin. Some were pierced. Many were not. They all shared one thing in common, and that was the fact that all of their eyes were on him and their mouths all moved with questions and he really, really, really wanted to wake up from this insane crazy-ass nightmare, thank you very much sir, because that would be just amazing.

"They seem friendly. I think I should go over to that dude who looks like he wants to punch my lights out and say hi."

"I told you before. We're raised to be suspicious." Their journey across the space continued, though it appeared that it would be ending soon. "You aren't dressed like us, first of all. You don't carry an air like you know who you are or how powerful you are-"

"That's because I don't." Scott muttered. "I know who I am. I _don't_ know how powerful I am or why that should matter. You're talking physically, right?"

"No." Avi gave a passive look. "I'm talking about how gifted you are with the Sound. They don't know if they should bow to you or spit at you."

" _Bow?_ What the hell is this Sound shit and why-"

"Scott." The bass cut him off sharply. The curious crowd was beginning to edge closer, debating if it wanted to touch its toes over the line. "Calm down and stop asking questions. You need many thing explained to you, but first you need to get your memory healed. Then I might not have to explain so much to you."

One person from the quickly quiet scattering of people ran forward to block the two men's path. She was pretty, with an impish face and skin the color of chocolate, smooth, unblemished. Her ears were as pointed as her chin, her stature small, and her light purple eyes matching the awe of her short-cut white hair. Like everyone else (except Scott), her outfit was black; tank top, boots, a short jacket that was long-sleeved but ended just above her hips, and a choker

" _Sorry, Sie zu stoppen,_ Maistre." She bowed respectfully to Avi. When she straightened, she did it weirdly, as if she was a robot that had recently learned how to do the motion correctly. Scott vaguely recognized the tongue she spoke in. Polish? German? But how was that possible...

The bass offered a small smile. " _Ja, Amethyst?_ "

" _Ich muss mit dir reden-_ "

" _Ich bin in diesem Augenblick besetzt_." Avi said, gesturing to Scott, whom stood uncomfortably underneath Amethyst's calculating gaze. " _Wir sind ziemlich müde_."

The girl with snowy hair paused delicately. " _Darf ich_...?"

Avi smiled. " _Ja, danke_." He turned to the man standing next to him to translate. "Scott, this is Amethyst; she's our healer. She wants your permission to ease you."

Hesitation presented itself, crawling and slow. What on earth was this monolingual purple-eyed girl going to do to him? Although, perhaps this was also a test of sorts to see if he would get along with the others...and he _was_ tired...

He answered positively. To his shock, Amethyst sent a warm smile his way, reaching to take his hand. Her fingers were soft, her nails plain and without polish, but kept and well-manicured.

In a voice as soft as her hand, she sang, " _Geheilt werden_."

A particular calm feeling washed over Scott, so relaxing that he drew in a deep breath and let it out with an uneven shudder. It reminded him of a tranquil ocean, of sitting in the sun on the sand, of quiet mornings that consisted of sitting on the couch drinking coffee doing nothing but letting thought run in and out of his head. Immediately, the strain he hadn't known taken residence on his shoulders lessened. He breathed again, far more content than he had been all that day. Amethyst retracted her hand, said something in that quiet tongue he couldn't grasp, and bounded off.

"Better?" Avi asked kindly. The blonde allowed a feel-good smile to grace his face while the bassist explained as they finished their walk. "Amethyst is a really sweet girl. She's new to the tribe and came here a few months ago. She's a quiet one, but she means well and will help whoever she can." The two stopped in front of a particularly large tree with a particularly large house sitting atop it. "She can only speak German, though, but she's told me she wants to try to learn English."

"Is knowing more than one language important?"

The bearded man chuckled. "This is how important it is; all tribal leaders need to be fluent in at the very least five. It's in a tribe member's best interest to be bilingual."

Scott whistled a little. " _Five_ languages? That sounds fucking difficult."

"Learning tongues that differ from the one your mother taught you is easier when you're familiar with the Sound." Avi sized the tall man up for a second, shook his head, and pointed up to the house. "That's where the leader of the tribe lives. You're to listen to his commands and you're to call him Maistre, understand? Anything less is considered disrespectful."

"But you let me call you Avi."

"Yes." A grin was broadcasted on said person's features, wide and open. "That's because I...I don't mind having you call me by my actual name. It's been a long time since somebody who doesn't have my rank and who isn't a close friend has called me that."

 _We_ are _close friends._ The blue-eyed singer deflated at the pondering, covering it up well as he climbed the sturdy ladder. _But somehow you don't remember. Somehow I got stuck in Idaho in some forest and now I don't understand anything anymore._

Only a few seconds passed until Avi met him at the top of the mock porch. It really was nice up here; the view was amazing, you could see all of the curious people dressed in black murmuring about, trading items and talking to each other and doing chores and errands. The doorway, interestingly enough, was without a door. Scott asked about this (he was starting to feel stupid for asking so many things, but Avi was a patient man) and the answer was that people usually didn't have front doors because, if they wished to be undisturbed, they merely pulled up their ladder. This made so much sense that the baritone blushed at his ignorance.

Avi led the way. He stepped into the doorway, knocking on the frame a few times, and called, "Maistre, are you here?"

There was an abrupt _BANG!_ from behind a door that was to the right of the living room (which was very nice from the quick glace it was given; a large rug covered the floor, and there was a couch and two chairs stationed around a wood table. The table carried a clay pot in the center that had a single flower growing out of it. As Scott watched, the flower changed color from blue to pink. Weird as fuck, but also cool) and a string of curses that sounded Italian. A moment later, the door flew open.

Scott had been feeling calmer and more sane since Amethyst had used her powers on him, but the second he saw who appeared, he wanted to run out the door and back into the woods.

"I swear, Avi, your neat freak habits are going to end me one day, I dropped a whole bunch of shit everywhere-" A high-pitched voice complained, the owner of the voice setting the books they were balancing on the wooden table beside the color-changing flower. They looked up to realize that Avi was not alone. They brushed their hands on their knees, straightened, and a flirty expression morphed their features. "Ah, you brought company."

"I did. Maybe he can be your roommate and keep your messy habits in check." Avi teased, casting Scott an easy glance.

"Hmm." They seemed to be considering it for a second, sending Scott a wink that had him reeling in silent shock. The blonde dropped his gaze to the floor, sure his cheeks were tinted pink, or red, his face was so heated he truly couldn't tell. "He's a newcomer?"

Scott briefly flicked his eyes upwards to stare at the face of Mitchell Grassi, who was looking at his best friend of twelve years as if this was the first time he'd ever seen him.

Mitch's tentative smile melted a little when he saw the way the baritone was gazing at him. "You look pale, newcomer. Are you alrig-"

That smile. That one motherfucking smile had done it. It was a smile that Scott had seen for as long as he could remember. It had been given to him on so many occasions. It was so familiar that his aching heart and his numb brain couldn't handle it.

Wooden floors, though they aren't as solid as concrete, seriously hurt you head. For real.

Ow.

Why is the room turning upside down. Why. If somebody would just tell Scott why then he would be okay. If they would also tell him why black was starting to drown his vision, that would be great as well. If somebody would tell him any good news, _any good news_ , he would be fine.

He should let himself faint. He should let himself drown in the blackness. Then he'd be awake, he'd be awake and okay and this insane crazy-ass nightmare would be over. He wouldn't wake up in a glowing forest that made his nerves buzz, he wouldn't be guided to a forest village by one of his band members who acted like they didn't know him, he wouldn't have the knowledge that his best friend was the leader of a tribe and didn't recognize a single line of his face.

He wouldn't he wouldn't he wouldn't he wouldn't he wouldn't he wouldn't he wouldn't he wouldn't and nobody could make him do it. Nobody.

Except that somebody could.

And they did.

"He didn't fully pass out, Avi, look, he's coming around. Hello?" Mitch's voice was softer on the last words. Warm, thin hands were cradling his face. "Can you open your eyes?"

If he opened his eyes then he would wake up. And some part of him, a part of him he'd never known, knew that he had to wake up. He had to wake up.

Scott's eyes did not struggle open. They did as they had done when he had first woken, snapping abruptly so that he saw the face of his best friend above him. Mitch was closer than he had expected, although for some reason, he didn't want to pull away. The brunette smiled at him and this time it didn't make him wish to go back to his normal non-fantasy-nightmarish life so badly that he lost himself to sudden sleep.

The pair simply stared into each other's eyes for a second. The countertenor was the one to blink first, breaking the nonexistent conversation that their pupils betrayed.

"You got a little faint there. Are you alright?" Scott nodded, blushing again. When had he become so damn shy?

Mitch helped him up with strong hands, situating him beside Avi. The tiny man's expression was one of thoughtfulness. Without taking his eyes from the blonde's flushed face, he asked, "Why did you bring him to me, Avi, if the second he sees me he passes out?"

"That's exactly why I brought him to you." The bass responded. He moved from Scott's side to stand next to Mitch. This made him feel more than a little uncomfortable, as now he was under two heavy gazes instead of one. "He lost his memory, Mitch. He knows his name, but he can't recall his tribe or his rank, and when he did the mind exercise he told me he saw the white fog. I think his mind might be triggered and I believe one might've gone off just now." Avi pursed his lips. "I thought you might be able to help him."

"Help him how? My powers are the farthest thing from charms as they can get." Mitch argued, stepping towards Scott with interest. The baritone resisted taking a step back. "He needs somebody good with enchantments or healing. Has he seen Amethyst or Bloom?"

"We both know that Amethyst is so new she can only heal physical ailments. And anyway, she cured his exhaustion, and if there was more she could do right now I'm sure she would've done it." The bearded man crossed his arms. "Although, seeing Bloom isn't a bad idea. Is he-"

"No, he went to see Lindsey. They're working on a project or something like that. So he's gone for the next few sols." The brunette was now standing directly in front of Scott, whose eyes were still cast downward, and said, "Please meet my stare."

The blue-eyed newcomer remembered what Avi had said about respect and lifted his gaze. Dark brown pupils sparkled up at him, causing his heart to give a weak jolt. His best friend was still so close even though he was so far.

"What is your name, _zaffiro_?" The smaller man asked.

Scott cleared his throat to assure that his voice wouldn't crack, and introduced himself to somebody he already knew for the second time that day. "Scott Hoying." Avi's voice chided him in the back of his mind, and he hurriedly added, "Um, Maistre, sir."

"Scott Hoying." Mitch rolled the words on his tongue slowly, testing the vowels, enunciating the consonants. He smiled and offered his hand to shake. "Hello, Scott. My name is Mitchell Coby Michael Grassi, leader of the Grassi tribe. Welcome to Nightshade Forest, the largest forest on all of Orbis. I agree to take you into the tribe to help cure your memory."

The baritone shook his hand (and resisted pulling him into a tight hug and sobbing on his shoulder. That was due for a later time) and said, "Thank you...um, Maistre, sir."

The brunette let go of their linked fingers. "Your memory of Orbis has been erased, and but you call me Maistre. Why?"

Scott glanced at Avi, asking silent permission. The bass nodded. "Avi told me to call you that." He paused, and then carried on. "I really didn't want my head to be chopped off, so I followed his instructions. Do I have to kiss your feet or something?"

Mitch stared at him for a moment, before he laughed. It was a happy, familiar sound, and coaxed a grin to grow on his face. "You're funny, _zaffiro._ No, you don't have to kiss my feet or anything absurdly similar. Did Avi tell you that?"

"Thankfully not, or else I probably would've believed him, Maistre."

Avi joined in Mitch's laughter. Even Scott smiled, blushing a little more. Okay, seriously, what was with all of the blushing?

When the two had calmed down, the countertenor announced, "Since you seem to trust Avi so fully..." Mitch looked from the bass to baritone and then repeated the process. "I'm putting you in his care. He'll watch over your progress in gaining your memory back and assist you when the time comes." He finally fully looked at Avi and snorted. "Don't fuck him up too badly. I like this one."

"As you have requested, Maistre." The man with green eyed bowed his head in consent, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards.

"Great." Mitch got a slightly distracted look to his face as he turned to gather the books he had set aside. "Now, if you'll get Scott situated quickly, you need to get your ass up here and help clean the mess that I made. Oh, it was nice to meet you Scott. Sorry for such an abrupt departure, but I literally dropped everything in my study and I need to fix what I broke." With a final nod, the singer left the room to go through the door he had exited from and closed the door behind him.

There was quiet between the two people left.

"That went better than I thought it was going to." Scott said, blinking at the closed door and wondering why it made his stomach sink.

Avi said nothing, shrugging at him and beckoning for the tall man to walk from the space and climb down the ladder. The journey down was silent save the clack of their shoes against the wood, and since Scott had gotten to the glowing grass first he waited for the bass to hit the ground beside him.

"Alright, Scott, this is going to sound like a lot because it is." A deep voice began. Avi gestured for the taller man to follow him as they started to walk again. Questions buzzed like bees around honey inside of the blonde's head, but he somehow managed to hold his tongue. "Like the Maistre said, I'm going to be your mentor-ish. I'll make sure that you get settled with someplace to stay, first of all. Mother of Sound, there's so much to do."

Tentatively (because his friend looked absolutely stressed out), Scott inquired, "Can't I stay with you in your house?"

This made Avi chuckle. "Though my house is almost as big as Mitch's and there would be enough room, only mates are allowed to share houses with a Maistre."

" _Mates?_ What does _that_ mean?""

"You'll learn more solmarrow, I promise."

"And what the hell does _solmarrow_ mean? Is that some kind of farmer dating convention?"

Avi shook his head to hide his smile. "You're tired. You need sleep." They stopped in front of a another tree, though smaller than the one Mitch's house was built on, and the tiny aparetment-like residence on top was also small. "This is the house that Amethyst lives in, since she's new and hasn't gotten others to help build her own yet. It's where all of the newcomers stay."

"Oh." Scott was slightly intimidated by the prospect of having to share a house with that mystical girl. "So...this is goodbye?"

"You'll see me later; Mitch did tell me to look after you." The bassist gave one last kind smile. "I trust Amethyst to wake you solmarrow, so don't worry. Now, I need to get back to Mitch. Have a good luna, okay?"

The blonde didn't even bother to ask what a luna was. "Thanks for everything, Avi. Goodbye for now."

Avi waved and pivoted on his heel to walk the way that they had come. Scott sighed while watching him go, feeling alone. He climbed the wobbly ladder (noticing bite and scratch marks near the bottom rungs) and heaved himself onto the porch. It was still light outside, so initially the blue-eyed man didn't understand why the suggestion of sleep had been thrown his way, but after merely standing for a few seconds his tired body sagged. The rush of energy he had received earlier had worn off. Bed sounded nice.

Scott walked through the doorway, knocking first, and nobody responded. Oh, yeah. It wasn't even dark out. Amethyst was doing her own thing, whatever that was.

This was too much to process for one day.

Luckily, the house was only one room, so it wasn't hard to find the two bunk beds that resided there, set up next to three cracked dressers. It certainly wasn't as high quality as where Mitch lived, but it was much better than the mere floor. Much better.

Without checking to see which beds were and weren't occupied by others that were absent, Scott slipped off his shoes and plopped on a bed without grace.

Something in his vision caught his eye. A silver glimmer on his wrist.

The bracelet.

Tears wet his blue orbs when Scott realized he still had it. _He still had it._ He still had the bracelet given to him by Mitch and Kirstie. Kirstin, where was she? Was she in this weird world too? And what about Kevin? Where was his family, were they here too? What was a sol or a luna and why was Mitch the leader of a tribe and what did the word Maistre mean and _why_ was he still here? What...why...

Pressing his lips to the miniature shimmering microphone charm, Scott's eyes closed and he fell headfirst into sleep.


	4. Burnt

**Yassss, chapter four! This chapter explains a little bit more about our characters and their dialect, and more about Orbis as well. Also, the German and Italian used in this story can be typed into none other than Google translate (sorry! But it works!). Hope you guys like this!**

 **Thank you for all of your reviews, favorites, and follows! Happy reading!**

* * *

Unlike when he had first awoken, Scott opened his eyes to see moonlight pouring in through the window (or at least, an attempt at a window. It was actually just a square-shaped hole in the wall of gritty wood) and the darkness of night following suit. He groaned, rolled over, and reached blindly for his phone that he usually kept on his nightstand.

His hand froze as realization hit him, along with empty air. He wasn't home. He was in the middle of a damned forest sleeping on the thinnest damned mattress (if you could even call it that) on the planet with no actual damned idea of where he was.

Oh yeah, and his friends were here too. The best part was that they acted as if they didn't known him and had never seen him in their lives.

This was _such_ a fucking _amazing_ wake up call.

Snoring could be heard from the bed above him. Scott listened to it for a moment, before his brain offered him the events of the previous day to help him along; it was most likely Amethyst, somebody he had met yesterday, a delicate girl with purple eyes, white hair, and who solely speak German. She was new, like him. She also possessed healing powers, as she had soothed away a bit of his fatigue by holding his hand and singing a few words.

The baritone still couldn't grasp why he wasn't freaking out about that. He was probably still in shock.

He continued to listen to Amethyst's light snores. They reminded him of the way Mitch would snore if he slept a certain way, and how Scott would playfully tease him about it at Pentatonix rehearsal. His heart squeezed at the thought of the band. He had to get to them somehow.

But they were here. By some weird coincidence, they were here. At least Avi and Mitch were. And that made no sense whatsoever.

God, the blonde was so confused, he didn't even know if he was on Earth anymore. He was pretty sure that grass on Earth didn't glow, and that people didn't live in houses built on top of trees, and that people on Earth didn't have the power to heal with mere touch. And singing.

Scott didn't want to hear his own thoughts racing around his head any longer. He needed to get up. Get up and do something.

Carefully he eased himself from the paper-like sheets, praying that the floorboards weren't prone to creaking. The snoring did not stop, so Scott silently slipped his shoes on (only now noting that he had no clothes to wear besides the ones on his body), stretched and heard his shoulders pop, and then sighed as he made his way to the open doorway. Cool night air swept across his face, and he breathed it in, smelling pine and leaves and...something burning?

Scott peered from the doorway, stepping forward so he was balanced on the tiny porch. The tree that the one room house had been built on wasn't that tall but it faced the middle of the clearing. Smoke curled from the space in the center, drifting up to disappear into the sky. The tall man squinted harder. The sizable fire pit he had seen the day before while Avi guided him to the house of the leader was alight, a steady flame sizzling there. A person was standing near it, so dark they would've been invisible if the fire extinguished.

By a weird impulse (admittedly, he was just a bit curious), Scott quietly made his way down the ladder, trying his best not to slip, and hit the grass with a dull _thud._ He spent the next minute creeping up behind the figure, getting so close that they were only a few feet apart. So close that the blue-eyed man could feel the warmth of the crackling fire on his skin.

"Whoever you are, your tracking skills are seriously shitty."

Jumping six inches, Scott clutched a hand to his speeding heart and breathed heavily past the adrenaline spiking his energy level. If he hadn't been awake before he certainly was now. "I-I wasn't trying to sneak up on you."

"Really?" A high-pitched tone asked, clearly not believing him. "What were you doing, then?"

"Um..." The baritone didn't know what to say. "I was...observing you. From up close."

The dark figure turned around to look at him. It was Mitch, smiling that familiar smile, making Scott as warm as the fire made him feel. He was dressed differently than the last time they had met; instead of wearing a plain black shirt, jeans, and simple boots, the countertenor seemed dressed for a fight. An assassins coat hugged his slim body, the collar high and the color black, as every article of clothing here was. His jeans were now flecked with bits of dirt and grass, and the sides of his fresh pair of boots glinted with silver at their tops. A closer inspection proved that they were knives, wicked ones at that, sheathed and strapped to one side of each boot. But, though he looked quite good and impressive, the most noteworthy thing about his appearance was...

"Hi, _zaffiro_. You're up late." Mitch greeted. He gestured for the blonde to come closer, and he did so, but not without an uneasy glance at the absolutely giant sword that was sheathed across the brunette's back. To put it simply, it resembled the sword wielded by Impa from the _Legends of Zelda_ series. Slightly frightening. How could someone so small fight with something that was so large?

It caught up to Scott whom he was talking to, and he immediately shied from his lost best friend. And tried not to become to wary of all of the sharp things that were attached to said lost best friend. "I'm sorry to bother you, um, Maistre. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."

"So you decided to stalk me?"

"N-No!" He burst, shaking his head so the message would be conveyed as quickly as possible. "No, I d-didn't mean to bother you, I'll just go-"

Mitch laughed. His grin lit up his face, and he beckoned at Scott with a slim finger to come closer. He did so, shifting his weight, blushing profusely and attempting to keep his eyes on the fire and the fire only. "Please, stay a little while. It's nice to have company this late at luna. Nobody is ever awake except me."

"I'll stay if you want, Maistre." Scott replied. The statement rang true inside of his head. He really did miss Mitch and wanted to spend time with him. He just had to keep in mind that this new Mitch didn't really know who he was yet. And god, it was strange to have to talk to him so formally and not be able to joke with him like usual. They both stood there for some time, letting the steady flame warm them, saying nothing. The tall man caught the brunette looking at him every now and then. His face was probably the color of a rose by now. No one said anything.

Though...the blonde had so many questions he wished to ask. What could it hurt to ask them right now? Everyone thought that his memory was gone (despite what Avi had said, his memory was NOT gone. It wasn't gone. It wasn't), so they wouldn't suspect a thing. "Maistre?"

"Yes, Scott?"

"Um...what's..." Scott's uncertain voice caught in his throat. But curiosity prevailed. "What's a luna?"

"A luna?" Mitch's eyebrows arched, and he stared at the man like he had three heads. At this point he could accept that as normal. "You don't remember what a luna is?"

"N-No." Sureness had never been so absent from his confident tone.

"Oh." The countertenor thought for a moment before responding. Listening to the fire calmed Scott's strung nerves as he waited for the response. "Luna is...this." He gestured to the sky, how dark it was, how clear the stars were, how bright they shone. "Luna is the time when the sky goes dark and the sol takes a rest for a while. You can see the stars. The air gets cooler and the forest more magical. Luna is the time that everything in the unknown is more dangerous." He smiled at an attentive Scott. "I sound like a teacher. Or Avi. But that's what luna is."

Still not understanding, the baritone bit his tongue to hold in his confusion, and mulled over it in his brain for a second. Somewhere, a part of him that he had never known before whispered to him what luna was. _Luna_ , wrapped together in a single word, meant _night._ He also had the instinctive knowledge that _sol_ meant day. Night and day. Luna and sol. It made sense.

He finally nodded as he smiled, now more informed than he had been several minutes ago. Suddenly, the fire kicked up a notch, rising a few feet in the air and causing Scott to step away so his hair wouldn't singe. The last thing he needed right now was his hair burnt until it was as brown as Mitch's.

"Shit! Sorry!" Said smaller man's expression was panicked. He moved _to_ the fire instead of away from it, his hands held like he was trying to tame a horse. "I didn't mean to do that! Fuck, would you just _calm down_?" The last part was directed at the fire.

The blue-eyed man watched in astonishment as the heat obeyed the brunette, falling from its mighty tower of flame and returning to its original size. It continued to crackle merrily.

Mitch tilted his head to see Scott wearing a disbelieving look. "Sorry about that. I'm still..." He sighed tiredly, flicking a piece of hair from his line of sight. "I'm working on fire. Fire...fire likes to react to my emotions, not me."

" _What?_ " The baritone was positive his mouth was hanging open like a fish. "Are you saying that-"

"That's one of the gifts that the Sound gave me, yeah." Black-clad shoulders lifted and fell. "Controlling flame. Nothing to scream about, _zaffiro_."

How did he know that the blonde was going to start screaming?

Maybe he was psychic, too.

That would be truly scary.

"R-Right. Because controlling fire isn't at all weird. That's normal. That's a normal, everyday thing." Scott couldn't help the slight hysteria that had leaked into his voice. "Right. Of course, Mit-Maistre. Right."

"Am I freaking you out?" Mitch's voice was gentle. He touched the baritone's arm lightly. His skin, though the contact wasn't bare due to the layers of clothing separating them, felt as hot as the fire, like being burned in a really really really good way. Scott moved away at the unfamiliar and strangely enticing feeling. The brunette dropped his hand as if he had also felt the sting. "I'm sorry. This is all so new to you, getting your memory back and everything, and I'm just making it worse."

"You're not making it worse." Scott breathed, rubbing his arm where they had touched. Why hadn't he felt this yesterday? Why hadn't he ever felt this before? "You're...you're just confusing me."

"That's not helping to make you better, _allettante uno_." Shaking his head of dark locks, the brown-eyed man turned back to the fire, his voice abruptly morphing so it was emotionless. "I think that you should return to bed. You have a busy solmarrow and I'm keeping you up."

The taller man wanted to protest. "I-I'm sorry, did I say something to-"

"I apologize for causing your mind to ache. Whoever you pissed off doesn't like me that much either, so it's best that you _go back to bed_ to prevent more accidental triggers."

Scott hated how swiftly Mitch had disconnected. Automatically he reached for his arm, almost invisible in the dark, and flinched when he roughly pulled away. The mood had gone from comforting to uncomprehendable to cold within a few seconds, and it was boggling the baritone's mind.

" _Per favore vai_. _Prima ho fatto male tu_." Words that sounded Italian escaped the tiny man through gritted teeth. He himself winced, and added in a language that Scott could understand, "Sorry, I'm not used to speaking so much English. Please go. Now."

"Maistre-"

"Scott Hoying, if you don't leave to your house right now, I'll _make_ you leave. It won't be fun." His high voice promised, dark eyes narrowed at a person who was trying not to shake. "Just because you're new doesn't mean you'll get special treatment from me. Leave before I trigger something in you or kick your ass." Like the gesture was more than familiar, Mitch reached for the hilt of his weapon, sliding his fingers across the handle. His eyes were brittle.

Scott had almost forgotten about the giant sword Mitch possessed (and his ponderings on whether of not he could wield it properly. He didn't want to find out) or the two knives sheathed in his boots. He was saying...he was saying that he would use his weapon against Scott. He would _hurt_ him, he would _cut_ him, he would _burn_ him if he didn't obey.

Too much. Too much too fast. He stumbled backwards, away from the hard expression he was being given and the promising threat, his head starting to throb, nodding frantically. Recalling the words Avi had said, he repeated them hastily. "As you have requested, Maistre."

He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay by the fire and ask more questions and wrap his head around just how powerful Mitch was and think about the pleasant burn he felt when they touched. No wonder he was the leader of the tribe. And a Maistre, whatever the hell that meant.

Whatever the fuck this all meant.

Scott walked away hurriedly, daring to glance behind him only once. The countertenor was watching him go, a bit of forlornness cracking his angry mask, but as soon as he noticed the blonde looking at him he scowled and flung a hand at the tall man dismissively. A bitter wind that smelled of trees and glowing grass shoved him forward, so forcefully that he almost tripped. He didn't and kept going until he luckily ended up where he intended to. Climbing the ladder, his heart beat frantically in his chest, and he didn't relax until he reached the top and was leaning heavily against the doorway of the tree house. What the hell had been up with that wind? Mitch could only control flame...

Ignoring the emotions welling up in him, Scott's eyes searched the area he had just fled from, seeking a tiny body with a giant sword strapped to its back.

The dark figure that was Mitch Grassi had disappeared. And someway, somehow, the fire had disappeared too.

* * *

Somebody was shaking him. They didn't need to, because Scott was already up. He had been for what seemed to be forever.

"I'm awake, Amethyst." His semi-deep tone protested, rolling over, in the same motion lightly pushing her delicate fingers off of him. The blonde raked a hand through his hair, finally looking up at the white-haired healer.

She was almost _overflowing_ with energy. Unlike Scott, her eyes didn't appear bloodshot, there were no bags under her purple pupils, and she probably wasn't mentally and emotionally stressed. She probably got a full luna of sleep. Tuffs of her electric hair stood up on one side of her head, and paired with her innocent expression she resembled a small child ready to eat Mickey Mouse pancakes for breakfast (minus her attire. She was dressed in a variation of the outfit he had seen her in yesterday. Her choker remained on).

Just the thought of food caused the baritone's stomach to rumble. He tried to recall the last time he had eaten something; it occurred to him that it was two days (actual days, not sols) ago, and that it was the bowl of popcorn he and the old Mitch who could get through a conversation with him without threatening his wellbeing had shared. Before he had gone to the bar. Before he got pulled here, wherever _here_ was.

Amethyst gave a small smile. It vanished when she got a good look at his exhausted face. Carefully (meaning she gave time for him to pull away if he wanted), the healer cupped his face in her right hand, closed her eyes...

Tiredness began to exit his body, leaking from his head to his toes down into the floor. Scott let his own blue eyes droop shut. It only lasted for a moment more, Amethyst letting go of him slowly. He glanced up from his seat on the bunk bed, ready to thank her, but stopped when she let out a sigh and rubbed at her eyes. They were now slightly bloodshot.

 _She healed my tiredness...but instead of getting rid of it, she took it instead._ The tall man was instantly sorry and said aloud, "You didn't need to do that if it would make you feel like shit. I'm sorry."

Her purple gaze landed on his mouth, and she gained an expression of concentration. This sounded wrong, yet after a moment, Scott realized she was trying to decipher what he was saying. He recalled that she was monolingual and solely spoke German. He blushed at his ignorance.

Amethyst shook her head at herself. Her focused face returned, and she opened her mouth to say in cracked English, "Twoo tyerred for me twoo..." She scrunched her eyebrows, searching for the word, giving up and saying it in German. " _...heilien..._ " She was obviously trying to finish the sentence in the language she was studying. Scott grinned in encouragement. "...yoo fuel e."

Scott stood up from the bed (he towered over her small frame) and nodded his head in thanks. Amethyst smiled, understanding without any words. She also revealed something she had been hiding behind her back; a blue fruit that looked like a banana, except it was twisted in a way that made it resemble the number 6. His breakfast. He took it from her gratefully. For some reason, he had the feeling they were going to be good friends.

He said the only thing he knew how to say in German; " _Vielen Dank._ " _Thank you very much._

Her reply was fluent and in the same tongue. The girl with purple pupils helped him unpeel the fruit, watching as he took a bite. It was sweet and strangely enough a little salty. But it was good. Scott thanked her again, making a move to walk to one of the wooden dressers in the corner, when he froze. Oh, yeah. He didn't have any clothes. Would he have to wear this for the rest of his life?

The healer read his mind again. Taking his hand (the one not holding the fruit, which was almost gone), she opened a drawer in the dresser next to the dresser he had picked, and rummaged around.

The tall man wasn't going to lie; the following fifteen minutes were pretty fun. Amethyst chose several outfits, all black of course, and gestured for him to try them on. He did so, assured that she was modest enough not to peek, attempting to finish his breakfast as he tugged on skin-tight bottoms. She laughed loudly as she got a good look at him wiggling his butt at her, shook her head, and the process repeated with different clothes until an outfit was finally picked.

Scott ended up wearing slightly rugged, worn jeans, a plain tank top, and a jacket whose sleeves he rolled to his elbows. it was a normal jacket, ending at just above his hips and not sinking below that point. He liked his boots, as they had secret compartments in secret locations that didn't hold anything that secret yet, unless you considered dust motes secret. They had silver buckle wrapped around each of them, matching his silver charm bracelet (that he now more than ever refused to take off). Amethyst had eyed him critically up-and-down, bounded to the dresser, and emerged with a small chained necklace with a silver sphere that, if you looked closely, not only had intricate designs, but opened to reveal more secret compartments that weren't so secret.

He loved it, and thanked her in German again.

Amethyst smiled, opened her mouth to try and say something in English, when a knock on the doorframe interrupted her. Her attention instantly divided, and she bowed respectfully to the person standing in the doorway. Scott pivoted on his heel, half hoping that it was Mitch, and half praying that it wasn't. He had no idea what he'd done the previous luna to change the countertenor's demeanor so suddenly, but it was far from good.

God, he hadn't been in...what did Mitch call it...Nightshade Forest for more than a few hours and he was already being threatened. By his _best friend_.

"Good sol, Scott." Green eyes that matched the leaves of the forest smiled at the baritone, who breathed a quiet sigh of relief and hid his frown of disappointment. Avi stood there, his hair up in a man bun, looking as awake as the healer had. "Nice outfit. It'll help you blend in."

"I thought sol meant day." Scott responded, walking to the bass and listening to the soft _clunk_ of his boots against the chipping wood. A yawn ruined the serious face he'd come close to adopting, and he rubbed his eyes.

Avi paused, observing the taller man. "What does _day_ mean?"

"What?" The blonde's invisible eyebrows formed a crease in the middle of his forehead. He was just about to ask the bassist if he wasn't going nuts when-oh yeah. His, er, _Earthen_ dialect wouldn't be understood here.

Wherever the literal fuck here _was_.

Instead of questioning the bearded man, Scott did what he had done last luna; listened to a part of him that he'd never ever heard from before. He waited a second, and a second more, until it gave in and whispered to him. Sol did primarily mean _day_ , but it could also mean _morning_ , or _sun_. Right. Of course. So good sol actually meant good morning.

How the hell was he expected to learn another language (assuming that he stayed with the tribe and Mitch didn't kick him out) if he had to translate _English_ every five seconds?

"Sorry, Avi." He amended, yawning again. "I just...my memory is all whacked out."

The lie was good enough for the bass, who simply nodded in acceptance. He lifted his hands to play with the edges of his gloves. "Well, hopefully it won't stay that way for long. You and the Maistre hit it off nicely yesterday, so I have a good feeling that even if he himself can't cure you, he'll give you the best help he can."

Scott swallowed, remembering the luna before in which he and the Maistre _hadn't_ hit it off so nicely. "That's...great."

"It is." Avi nodded. He noticed Amethyst, probably still standing behind Scott, bustling about and getting ready, and said something in German. The blonde turned to see her white locks freeze in place and her mouth move into a thin, displeased line.

" _Er kann nicht kampfen, er ist zu müde._ " She said, her tone slightly irritated. " _Er weiß nicht, wie noch,_ Maistre."

The bearded man shook his head at her. " _Er wird lernen._ "

Amethyst looked like she wanted to argue her point further, shooting Scott unreadable looks, but all she did was sigh in defeat and nod. Avi's face softened, and he said something else the baritone couldn't understand. The healer pivoted on her heel, and climbed the bed ladder to get to her top bunk, and nothing more was said. Avi gestured for Scott to follow him out.

The two made their way down the house ladder in as relative silence as they could. Everybody was up and about and awake; since the blue-eyed man had been awake for hours, he had heard the people of the tribe bustling about, doing whatever it is that they did. When his feet hit the ground, noise filled his ears; the sounds of other boots walking through the grass that faintly glowed, insects buzzing in the forest that was only a few feet away, and voices talking, arguing, and laughing, more often than not in different languages.

Avi smiled at the orderly chaos. "Is it a bit overwhelming?"

"Um..." Just looking at it all made Scott's head spin. "A little."

The bassist laughed at the deer-in-the-headlights expression the blonde was sure was decorating his features. "You'll get used to it. Follow me." Avi set off.

"Where are we going?" Scott hurried to keep up, something that he had never done before. He watched as everyone they passed paused to give a bow and greet the bass in whatever language they spoke, always ending with the word Maistre. Some people, after straightening, gave the newcomer a weird look that had forced friendliness on it. Most didn't even try to acknowledge him, just saying a quick hello and going back to whatever they had previously been doing.

Actually, everybody seemed oddly busy. People were strapping weapons onto their backs, everything from swords to knives to bows and arrows. The Forgery, the stone building that Avi had pointed to the sol before, was crowded with people hanging outside of the large open window and shouting into it. Loud clanking emitted from the space, and occasionally puffs of smoke emitted from a chimney-like rectangle that sat on top of the structure. What was everybody doing?

"Everybody is getting ready for training." Avi said out of no where. Scott quickly glanced at him. Oh, god, was Avi a psychic too? Could all Maistre's read minds?

"Can you read my mind?" He asked warily.

This got the man with green eyes chuckling and trying to hide it behind his glove. "No, I can't read your mind. That would be pretty cool, though. But that's not my gift."

Scott remembered how Mitch had said that controlling fire was one of the gifts that the Sound had given him. "What's your gift, then?"

"That's quite rude to ask, you know. Especially when it's a Maistre you're asking."

"Sorry, Avi, I didn't-"

Avi chuckled good-naturedly. "I'm being difficult. Don't worry, Scott, you're new and you don't know all of the rules yet. You didn't know that it was wrong to ask me, and that's okay."

The blonde couldn't help the way his shoulders sagged slightly. He kicked a small rock that was in his path as he walked, giving his friend a lost look. Had he been rude last luna when he had discussed Mitch's power? Maybe that was why he had soured so suddenly. "But that's the thing. I want to know all of the rules so that I don't mess up."

"Messing up is part of learning, Scott."

"But I _don't want to mess up_. You're supposed to be my mentor. Why can't you teach me the rules?"

The bassist waved to three tribe members who had called to him using his formal title. The two continued to make their way through the little forest village. After thinking through his answer, he said slowly, "I am indeed your mentor. But I can't teach you everything. Some things you have to learn on your own. But..." He sighed, his expression grudging. "I did promise to help you. So I'll make an arrangement; each sol when training ends, you meet me afterwards and I'll teach you more about life on Orbis. Okay? And maybe I could get Amethyst involved as well...she lacks knowledge, like you."

"Okay, that's it, I have to ask; what the fuck is Orbis?" Scott threw his hands up in exasperation. "And what's training? Why is everybody getting ready for it?"

Avi continued to walk (now through a little cleared path of trees, away from the village), but gave the tall man a long look while doing so. "You really must've made somebody angry, if you don't know what Orbis is. Or training."

Beating back a tree branch that had bark so dark it was almost purple, the person who gave the answer asked, "Can't you tell me?"

"I'll answer the easier of your two questions. Training is the time of sol where everybody in the tribe comes together at one place, and does pretty much exactly that; train. Depending on what you struggle the most with, that's what you work on, whether it be your gifts, singing, or fighting. Most people have problems fighting. Using their gifts is like a second nature."

Scott paused, processing the weirdness, before saying carefully, "Is it okay if I ask you what your gift is?"

"Yes." There was a smile in his voice as he said it. "I give you permission."

"What's your gift, Maistre?"

A playful twinkle sparked inside of Avi's jade eyes. Something that was very, very seldom. The only time the baritone had ever seen it was when Meat and Potatoes had been wrestling around the recording studio and the bass had won. "Watch this, newcomer."

The bearded man rubbed his hands together, closing his eyes and concentrating, and deliberately pulled his fingers apart. Scott watched in amazement as electricity jumped between Avi's palms, crackling and hissing, some streaks bright purple and others neon blue. The effect lasted for a few seconds, and stopped when the bass clapped his hands together. A sound resonated that the blonde could've sworn was thunder.

"You can-" Scott was staring at his friends hands, seriously expecting an entire storm to ignite. "You can control electricity?"

"I've never heard of that before." Avi responded curiously. His brow furrowed in the same way it had when Scott had said the word _day_. "What's ee-leek-tris-sity?"

The baritone paused for a moment, honestly debating if he should try and explain the term, but chickened out at the last second. "It's nothing, nevermind. Your gift is controlling lightning?" As the words exited his lips, it was shocking how natural they sounded rolling off of his tongue.

Shocking...get it? Because Avi can control...y'know?

Wow. If he was going to be stuck on this godforsaken place for the rest of his life, his fabulous sense of humor better not go to shit.

Scott had the feeling that it already was, anyway.

Damn.

"You could say that." Avi had stopped walking. In front of the two was a smaller clearing than the one that the little tree village was built in. People were milling about, chatting with their fellow tribe members in pairs or in small groups. Unlike at the village and through the path that led there, the air in this particular space was tense, almost nervous. Everyone appeared unsteady, and were casually reaching behind them to stroke the handle of their weapons. Talk was a little forced. Only a few people seemed completely at ease. "I do have power over lightning, but my general gift is with storms. I sense when they approach, their severity, and control the thunder. And rain with the wind, on occasion."

"That's really cool." Scott blurted, because it seriously was. Bending storms to your will? Yes, please! No wonder Avi was a Maistre.

The bass grinned at his sudden enthusiasm for a moment, but the second his eyes swept the crowded clearing, his expression faded. Everybody had now taken notice to his arrival, and greeted him hastily. They all, as what was becoming usual, gave the tall blonde a weird glance, before their attention snapped back to the person in charge. They seemed to be huddling together to form one crowd.

"Sound, but I hate doing this." The bearded man murmured under his breath. Scott tried not to let that worry him too much (come on, he wasn't really going to be made to follow orders to train, right? He would have a weapon if he was doing that), and felt a little sorry for the tribe and whatever they were about to go through. That is, until Avi gestured for him to join the mass.

He didn't move for a second. "Wait, you want me to...but I don't-"

"It's alright, Scott. I..." His deep voice trailed off, a troubled look coming to light green eyes. "Just go. Trust me and join your fellow tribal members for training." When he hesitated again, Avi's voice lost a bit of its soothing nature and gained edge. " _Now_. That's an order."

"Yes, Maistre." The submissive phrase was going to be branded into the baritone's brain soon enough. He kept saying it quicker and quicker and he wasn't sure if he entirely liked that. Scott tried not to trip over his own feet as he walked to the group of staring people. He ended up standing in between a short girl with black hair in a pixie cut, and a toned, tan boy with hair died neon pink. The girl gave a tentative smile, but the boy snorted and took an obvious step away.

His cheeks were probably burned bright red. Ugh. This felt like the first day at a new school. Out of interest, Scott glanced around for Amethyst, but she was nowhere to be seen in the small crowd. This was not a comfort.

"Attention, all." Avi's voice rang over the now silent clearing. Everybody stood rapt. "I know that some of you may not understand me, because some of you don't know English, but the Maistre Controtenore will be arriving soon, and he'll help to translate." A murmur broke out in the crowd at this. Scott gathered that whomever the Maistre Controtenore was, he was pretty important, and wondered if they had already met. "But until then-"

Bushes scuffled off to the bassist's right. Avi tilted his head towards the noise, as focused as everybody else; it was only Amethyst, arriving from the house. She hadn't changed with the exception of one thing, and it was that two metal cuffs, dark and thick and bulky, had been locked onto her wrists. The healer acted like they weren't there, flicking her hair from her eyes casually and moving to stand in front of Scott.

The blonde grew anxious once he spotted the cuff-like bracelets on her wrists shining in the sol. They gave off a strange vibe and transformed the usual comforting and sweet aura that Amethyst carried into something a slight bit more...dangerous.

She glanced behind her at him, and winked.

Scott didn't know what to make of that, but didn't have time to since Avi was talking again. "As I was saying, until he arrives, we're going to be working on fighting today. But unlike usual, we're actually going to have mock-matches." There was a stifling of groans mixed with excited gasps. "I know, I know, it's a little early to be practicing this much, but the Sing-Off is coming up soon, and as we all know, practice makes perfect."

The baritone perked his ears. Had Avi just said...the Sing-Off? Like, the one and only Sing-Off that Pentatonix had won a few years back? But...that didn't make sense. That TV contest didn't exist here.

...did it?

"Before we begin, I'd like to bring attention to a matter." The bassist turned to the pink-haired boy who had stepped away from Scott. His ears were quadruple pierced, and the edge of a tattoo peeked from underneath his short-sleeve shirt. Tattoos...yet another thing to as Avi about later. "Bloom has returned early from his stay at the tribe of Maistre Hall, and has brought back information on how the Sing-Off will be judged this year. Thank you, Bloom."

Bloom half-smirked as he was given several pats on the back and whispered congratulations. Scott did neither. Information on the Sing-Off...as in, cheating? He was no saint, but cheating was wrong. An uneasy feeling

"Now, time to fight." Avi wrapped up his speech with a clap of his hands that sounded like a tiny clap of thunder. Nobody blinked. "Since the Maistre Controtenore isn't here yet-"

"I _am_ here." A high-pitched voice announced from Avi's left.

Scott resisted the urge to throw something while he watched nobody other than _Mitch_ - _fucking_ - _Grassi_ step out of the protection of the trees, looking fierce and just as deadly as he had when the blonde had seen him standing by the fire. His expression was tried, underneath his eyes dusted purple, but surely no one would willingly face him seeing as he still had that giant sword sheathed on his back. A quick look at his small feet confirmed the two knives strapped to his boots were there.

It occurred to the tall man that he was surrounded by people who not only disliked him, but had weapons they knew how to use. Scott's eyes remained glued to his best friend's face has his stomach flipped. Whatever mock-matches were, they sounded painful. And like you needed a weapon to participate in them.

Avi _did_ say to trust him...maybe he'd yank the blue-eyed man out of there before someone kicked his ass.

Judging by the solemn look that the bass was sending him, that idea was growing more and more unlikely.

Mitch nodded at the bearded Maistre. All eyes shifted to the countertenor as his mouth opened to speak. "As your Maistre Bass has already explained, today we're going to be doing mock-matches. However, instead of doing mock-matches twice a week, we'll be doing them three times a week." His dark gaze swept the crowd. A dare to anyone to defy his words. Scott shivered a little when those brown eyes met his own, feeling a burning heat sweep up his neck. "The Sing-Off is fast approaching and we must be ready."

Gone was the giggling brunette that teased him in front of the fire. In his place was a stone cold leader whom radiated power.

Scott wasn't so sure that he entirely liked that, either.

Amethyst reached for the blonde's hand and held it. He squeezed her fingers lightly; despite putting on those weird cuffs that emitted danger, she was nervous as well. He had almost forgotten that she was as new to the tribe as he was. Did she know what a mock-match was?

"Let the fighting begin!" Mitch announced in a loud voice. He repeated the phrase in four other languages (surprising the blonde for second, before he remember what Avi had told him about tribal leaders having to learn five languages).

Everybody burst into mutterings, stepping back a few paces so that the crowd wasn't at standing in the middle of the clearing, rather they were standing at by the ring of trees. Now the space in the middle was bare. So bare that two people could stalk its circumference comfortably, and could be viewed by the crowd and by the two Maistre's.

Puzzle pieces clicked together in Scott's mind. That was the point, he realized. Two people were to fight in the middle of the clearing with their weapons, and the winner declared by the Maistre's. Did weapons include supposed 'gifts'? Did everybody here have a 'gift' except for Scott?

"First pair is..." Mitch mulled over the names he wanted. His eyes met the baritone's once more. A smile that wasn't nice but wasn't mean curled on his lips. "Two Beginning Singers. Amethyst Creed and Scott Hoying, step forward."

Sending the other person half scared, half assuring expressions, the two stepped forward into the empty part of the clearing. Whispers broke out. Scott ignored them, though he felt self-consciousness creeping up on him like it never had before, and awkwardly stood in the solid middle of the space. The whispers transitioned into quiet laughter. Heat gathered in his face as he blushed.

Avi shook his head at the blonde in what resembled embarrassment and pointed a ways to the right. Amethyst abandoned her position from the far left to guide her house mate there, smiling a wobbly smile in reassurance. She returned to her spot a few yards in front of him.

Scott gave a helpless look in the direction of his favorite bass. This look was unacknowledged.

The hands of the healer were shaking, and her thin fingers were trembling and held in such a way that resembled how one would snap them to a beat. Her cuff-bracelets shone. The tall man faced her, unsure what was about to happen, and held his fists in front of him. Was he going to have to _beat her up?_ He'd never thrown a punch of anger in his life! Amethyst rolled her weight to one of her hips, her features molded into a grim line.

Mitch looked at one person, and then the other. He almost appeared regretful of his decision. But despite that, he raised his left hand, dropped it, and barked, " _Fight!_ "


End file.
